


your hands, my skin

by kinneyb



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Choking, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: "Iwantyoutochokeme," he said quickly, all at once, the words blending together.Eliot laughed softly and rubbed a hand down Quentin's back. "Repeat that?"
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 107





	your hands, my skin

**Author's Note:**

> who doesnt love a good choking fic!! i know i do  
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

The thing was, Quentin _knew_ he was being silly. He knew Eliot would never laugh at him, especially over something like this - Eliot had made it abundantly clear he loved when Quentin asked for what he wanted, was open about his wants and needs and interests. But usually the things he wanted were... expected, nothing out of the ordinary.

This was just a little different.

Eliot, of course, had noticed something was bothering him because, well. Eliot knew him almost as well as he knew himself.

"You keep looking like you want to ask something, but never do," was Eliot's opening line, soft and understanding as they were cuddled together after a round (or two, who was counting) of some of the best sex Quentin had ever had. All sex with Eliot was the best he'd ever had, topping the last.

Quentin stared down at Eliot's hands, one of which was currently spread out across Quentin's own stomach, taking up most of it. The other was brushing softly, idly through Quentin's hair, which had grown out a good couple of inches.

"I love your hands," he blurted in way of a real answer.

Eliot laughed quietly and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of Quentin's face. "Yeah?"

He nodded, slowly, and turned, peering up into Eliot's beautiful, understanding eyes. He would never laugh at him. Quentin knew that logically but the other part of his brain - the terrible, draining part - wouldn't quiet down.

"That's. Uh," he looked away. "I don't think you'll want to do it," he said finally, a bit quiet.

Eliot hummed softly and adjusted himself, drawing Quentin closer. Quentin went easily, pressing up against Eliot's chest and sighing, content. 

"Maybe not," he answered, honestly. They were getting better with that; being honest and open with each other and their own feelings. "But there is _never_ any harm in asking," he squeezed Quentin tight, "okay?"

Quentin swallowed around the lump in his throat. Fuck it. "Iwantyoutochokeme," he said quickly, all at once, the words blending together.

Eliot laughed softly and rubbed a hand down Quentin's back. "Repeat that?"

"I - " Quentin cleared his throat and pulled back, just enough so he could peer up at Eliot as he repeated himself, slower, "I want you to - to choke me."

Eliot's hand stilled on Quentin's back. "Q," he breathed, not judging - never judging, but uncertain. "I'm not - that might be a good idea," he finished after a few beats.

He knew why; _of course_ he knew why Eliot would be hesitant to do this, after everything.

"But I'm _asking_ you," he said, running a hand down Eliot's chest, through the soft, dark hairs peppering his chest. 

Eliot stared down at him. "I don't want to hurt you," he said simply. "And - and choking, even for the most experienced people, can be dangerous, little Q."

"I know," he replied breezily. "We - we wouldn't have to do it, like, super hard."

Eliot sighed, slow and deep. "I'll think about it," he said, and finally his hand started moving again, up and down Quentin's back. "But can I know something?"

"Sure," Quentin said. "Anything."

Eliot smiled carefully. "Why do you want this, Quentin?"

To be fair, and honest with himself, Quentin had always had a thing for choking. He'd never tried it, of course (he really was aware it was dangerous), but he'd watched porn and imagined. Daydreamed, really.

But. 

There was another reason.

Quentin stared into Eliot's eyes. He knew Eliot knew; Julia had mentioned telling him. Quentin had been too - too _fragile_ to talk about The Monster, but Eliot had wanted to know. He deserved to know, so Julia had volunteered to tell him everything. And surely she hadn't left out such an important, scary moment.

"I want to - " he pursed his lips, thinking hard about his next words. "Replace some of my bad memories."

Eliot seemed sad as he nodded, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. He didn't say anything. Quentin pecked his lips.

"Sometimes I really regret that moment," Quentin whispered after a few seconds of silence. "Not because I - I could ever regret threatening that thing to keep you safe," he said, reaching a hand out and squeezing Eliot's side, "but putting my own safety on the line to do it. Being so - so _reckless_."

Eliot nodded again, still didn't say anything.

Quentin took a shaky breath. "I just... I want to erase the memory of that - that _thing's_ hands around my neck." Maybe it wasn't the healthiest thing, but baby steps.

"I'll think about it," Eliot repeated softly, pressing a kiss behind one of Quentin's ears.

Quentin squirmed. "Okay," he replied. Because waiting was the least he could do, and if Eliot decided he just couldn't do it, he would understand. Really; this was more than just a fun, wild sex thing. They both knew that. "I love you, El," he added after a beat.

Eliot's breath tickled Quentin's ear as he replied, "I love you too, Q."

++

Eliot said yes after a few days; they were sitting on the couch in the living room, the apartment was empty. Nowadays, all their friends were always so busy. The apartment basically belonged to them.

They helped the others, of course, but they always found themselves drained much too fast, which wasn't surprising, really. They'd been through a lot.

They were also watching a dumb horror movie for no real reason. Quentin just enjoyed them and Eliot loved anything he enjoyed, which maybe wasn't super healthy but. Hey, he enjoyed the small things in life like Quentin's dimples when he laughed at something stupid on screen.

"I want to do it," Eliot said during a slow part of the movie, no context or anything. He wondered briefly if Quentin would understand.

For a moment it looked like he didn't; he turned his head and peered up at Eliot curiously. But then something visibly clicked. "Oh," he breathed, no longer interested in the movie at all. "You mean - "

Eliot squeezed him, pulling him closer. "I want to do a lot more research and." He cleared his throat. "Maybe even visit Margo, get some advice form her."

The corners of Quentin's mouth quirked up, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Why am I not surprised she knows a lot about this particular topic?" 

"Because you know her so well, sweet Q," he replied, smiling a little himself. He pinched Quentin's side playfully. "Think you could wait a little longer?"

Quentin squirmed with a quiet laugh. "I think so," he answered, light and teasing. Then, he sobered up, continuing, "I don't want to do this if you don't want to." He leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Eliot's jaw. "I don't want to, like, force you to do anything. Ever."

Eliot's chest was warm with love and adoration and pure, unadulterated trust. "I know, Q."

"Okay," Quentin said. 

The things they could say by saying nothing at all; something that only happened after spending fifty something years together. Quentin turned back to the television and settled down in Eliot's arms.

++

Eliot wasn't joking - after their conversation he departed for Fillory, peppering Quentin in kisses. He promised to be back in a few days and told Quentin to be prepared for it. The command - if it could even be called that - made him shiver. He spent the next few days distracted and not really being any help.

"Are you okay?" Julia asked on the third day Eliot was gone. "You've been acting... really distracted." 

Quentin almost laughed but the thing was, Julia looked genuinely concerned and really, she had a reason to be. His mental health was a wild, vicious thing. He hugged her. "I just miss El," he said, which was true.

"Oh," Julia giggled and pulled back, petting his hair. "Lovesick, little Q?"

He rolled his eyes. After that, she at least didn't push him for any more information. They worked together on something Kady needed help with and then, after a couple hours, Julia left.

Quentin went to sleep, hoping Eliot would be back soon. Like tomorrow, preferably.

++

For once the universe was smiling down upon him. When Quentin woke up, he realized he wasn't alone; Eliot must've returned during the night, curled up around Quentin's sleeping form. His chest fluttered with so many different, contrasting emotions: love, excitement, anxiety. 

He turned over and nosed along Eliot's jaw. He obviously hadn't shaved during his stay in Fillory, his stubble prickly against his nose. Quentin didn't mind. 

"Hey," he breathed.

Eliot stirred and slowly opened his eyes, a soft, lazy smile blooming across his face. "Hi."

"So," Quentin hummed, tracing random shapes into the bare skin of Eliot's chest. "Did Margo have any good, helpful advice?"

Eliot yawned and reached up, gently brushing some hair out of Quentin's face. "Mhm," he confirmed. "Lots."

Quentin bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing a grin. Eliot tucked some hair behind one of his ears. 

"Excited, baby Q?" he asked with a soft laugh. Eliot shifted and pressed up against Quentin's front. "We can do it. Tonight, okay?"

Fuck, yes. Quentin nodded, a bit too fast. 

Eliot laughed again, louder, and smacked a loud kiss to Quentin's forehead.

++

Eliot could be selfish, Quentin knew that. He had gotten a lot better after, well, everything. Apparently being stuck in your own head for so long could really change a person, but Eliot had never been a selfish partner in bed. Not really.

Most people would probably think so, and maybe it was different for one night stands, but.

When Eliot cared about you, really, he spoiled you. Quentin, of course, knew this better than anyone, maybe even Margo and tonight started off as no exception. It was dark and only a dim lamp illuminated off their features, soft and romantic and kind of totally not what Quentin expected.

He pushed Quentin back onto the bed - new sheets, he idly noticed, silk - and started off by kissing him. Quentin was a sucker for kissing, almost embarrassingly so.

Eliot apparently loved it about him.

They kissed and kissed and kissed until Quentin was straining in his sweatpants and panting and so, so impatient. He squirmed as Eliot pulled back, a fond but teasing smirk on his face. 

"Patience, little Q," he whispered, brushing some sweaty strands of hair out of his face. "Especially tonight, okay?"

Quentin swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded, peering up at Eliot with wide, nervous eyes. His stomach was doing somersaults.

"Now, what did we talk about?" Eliot asked, somehow always so much better at ignoring his own arousal. Quentin almost admired that about him; how he was able to just turn it off and focus on what was important.

Quentin wet his lips. "Tap your - your forearm if I want out," he said, remembering their conversation clearly.

"Good boy," Eliot praised, kissing the tip of his nose. "And what else?"

He had a harder time remembering the second part but when he did he sobered up, just a little. He reached up and gently stroked Eliot's cheek. "If you want to quit at any point, no pushing it."

Eliot turned his head and kissed the palm of Quentin's hand, closing his eyes for just a second. "Good boy," he repeated softly. He took a deep, steadying breath and sat back. "Come here," he said and Quentin sat up, just enough so Eliot could pull his t-shirt off and toss it to the floor.

The room was just cold enough to be stimulating, but not uncomfortable.

Eliot pet his chest, humming quietly. "How do you want me?" he asked after a moment. "Do you want me to be naked?"

Quentin hadn't really thought about that. His eyes flickered down. Eliot, like always, was dressed impeccably. It had taken him a while after The Monster, but. He was back to his old self again - well, in regards to his fashion, at least. His cheeks grew hot. "I - I want you like this," he said.

"Oh, is that so?" Eliot purred, looking pleased with himself.

Quentin let out a huff of laughter. "You look hot all dressed up," he said, "but you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Perhaps," he whispered and suddenly he looked different, older, more sober. Quentin shivered. "You ready?"

They hadn't really discussed the details of everything, but honestly Quentin trusted him to know what to do - what he wanted. So, he nodded and tipped his head back, taking a shaky breath as the moment settled between them, hot and heavy.

Eliot's hand moved down, just a little, and stroked over one of his nipples. Quentin hummed, almost a moan. His nipples had always been sensitive, and Eliot knew it.

He tweaked one of Quentin's nipples, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. That - that was - Quentin couldn't help it; he moaned, loud and unabashed, hips lifting up and off the bed a little.

Eliot hummed, satisfied, and ducked down, pressing his face into Quentin's shoulder. He kissed and sucked at the skin.

" _El,_ " he groaned, so, so uncomfortably hard, straining painfully against his sweatpants.

"I know, love," Eliot muttered against his skin and finally - thank God - reached down between them. Of course he only teased him at first, though, gently running his fingers along the waistband of his sweatpants, so close but not close enough. 

Quentin whimpered. "Please," he pleaded, open and unashamed in the way he only ever could be with Eliot. 

"Always in such a rush," he mumbled softly, but he finally reached under Quentin's waistband, tentative, soft fingers brushing his cock. Quentin arched off the bed with a deep, heady moan. "I know, baby," he purred. "So good for me. Be patient."

He wanted to be, really, it was just - a lot.

For a little while Eliot just teased him, brushing his knuckles, his fingertips over the hot, wet skin of Quentin's cock. Until finally - finally - he wrapped his fingers around him, loosely. 

"Better?" he purred, ducking down and nipping at Quentin's ear. 

Quentin could barely think. " _Yes_ ," he moaned, hot all over. And they hadn't even gotten to the main event yet. His chest fluttered with anticipation.

Eliot kissed the shell of his ear as he stroked him a little faster, tightening his fingers around him. Quentin panted, closed his eyes and just enjoyed himself. After everything, he deserved a little joy in life, right?

"Good boy, always so good," Eliot was saying and each word send a shiver through Quentin. The good kind, the kind that made his toes curl and his stomach flip. 

For a few long seconds Eliot just keep working him, stroking him at a reasonable pace, enough to be good but not enough to send him toppling over the edge just yet. He was saving that.

Then, finally, he whispered in his ear: "Ready?"

Quentin swallowed thickly. "Yes," he breathed, sure of it.

Eliot kissed his jaw before pulling back. He kept working Quentin with one hand as he raised the other, pressing his fingers against the sensitive, soft skin of Quentin's neck. Quentin let out a soft gasp.

"Okay?" he asked, and he sounded just a little worried.

Quentin smiled, a bit shaky. His eyes were still closed; he wanted to focus on - on _feeling_ it. "Yes."

Finally, ever so slowly, Eliot's fingers pressed into Quentin's neck. He seemed to be focusing on the sides, Quentin wasn't sure - he was a little too out of it. He remembered him going off, seeking out Margo for advice and almost wanted to laugh. But he was a little too distracted.

He didn't apply too much pressure, just enough that Quentin had to think through his breaths, be aware of them.

"Good?" Eliot asked, and even with his eyes closed Quentin knew he was watching his face. He always did that and tonight would be no exception.

Quentin let out another gasp. "Yes," he breathed, a little weak.

Eliot squeezed just a little tighter and started moving his other hand faster. "Come on, baby," he said, soft and encouraging. 

" _El,_ " he gasped, broken and weak and - "I can't - "

Finally, Quentin was pushed over the edge, all at once, stars blooming behind his eyelids. He let out a loud, sharp gasp and shuddered almost violently as he spilled all over Eliot's hand. Eliot's hand kept stroking him through it, his other hand loosening around his neck.

After Quentin had settled down a bit, Eliot removed his hand fully, stroking his knuckles along the marks already appearing on Quentin's beautiful, olive skin.

"You okay, baby?" he asked softly, quietly.

Quentin hummed in reply, so weak but in the best way. Eliot leaned down and kissed his forehead, soft and loving. 

"I'm gonna take that as a yes," he muttered against his forehead, laughing lightly.

++

About an hour later, they both sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard and holding each other, petting each other. Quentin felt a little bad, but not for the expected reasons. "I didn't - " he flushed " - I didn't return the favor," he muttered, peering up at Eliot from under his dark eyelashes.

Eliot smiled softly and reached up, running his fingers through Quentin's hair. "I didn't expect you to," he said, gently. "That was... a lot, different from what we usually do. And it was about you, Q, not me."

After Quentin had come, he'd been pretty useless and Eliot had taken care of himself.

"What's important is..." Eliot squeezed him, tight. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Quentin leaned his head on Eliot's shoulder. "Kind of, yeah. Okay, yeah."

Eliot laughed softly and rubbed his arm. "What did you enjoy about it?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "It was just - nice. Letting go, and - and trusting someone with something so. Important?" Quentin peeked up at him. "I'm not explaining myself well at all, am I?" 

Eliot kissed his cheek. "You are," he assured him softly. "I understand." Then, after a beat, "what about... you know." 

The Monster, _his_ hands around Quentin's throat, squeezing, a threat. He looked up at Eliot fully. "It was - I didn't feel scared or - or threatened or worried for even a second." A small part of him, even early on, had been afraid of certain parts of Eliot, certain movements, triggering him.

He'd been afraid for nothing, apparently. The Monster couldn't be more different from Eliot. Eliot smiled down at him, and if Quentin didn't know better he'd say his eyes looked a little wet.

"I'm glad," he whispered.

Quentin brushed a stray curl behind Eliot's ear. "I love you," he said. A younger Eliot would've been scared of hearing those words, but things were different now. 

He leaned down and rubbed their noses together. "I love _you_ , little Q."


End file.
